"It's a lie, sir!" screamed the General--"a damned lie, sir--a damned lie, sir--a _damned_ lie, sir."
His gouty claw was advanced trembling as if to clutch the muffler that was folded about Monsieur Varbarriere's throat, but he dropped back in his seat again shaking, and ran his fingers through his white hair several times. There was a silence which even M. Varbarriere did not like.
Varbarriere was not the least offended at his violence. He knew quite well that the General did not understand what he said, or mean, or remember it--that it was only the wild protest of agony. For the first time he felt a compunction about that old foozle, who had hitherto somehow counted for nothing in the game he was playing, and he saw him, years after, as he had shrieked at him that night, with his claw stretched towards his throat, ludicrous, and also terrible.
"My God! sir," cried the old man, with a quaver that sounded like a laugh, "do you tell me so?"
"Now, sir, I'll not interrupt you--tell all, pray--hide nothing," said the General.
"I was, sir, accidentally witness to a conversation which is capable of no other interpretation; and I have legal proof of the existence of a secret door, connecting the apartment which has been assigned to you, at Marlowe, with Sir Jekyl's room."
"The damned villain! What a fool," and then very fiercely he suddenly added, "You can prove all this, sir? I hope you can."
"All this, and more, sir. I suspect, sir, there will hardly be an attempt to deny it."
"Oh, sir, it's terrible; but I was such a fool. I had no business--I deserve it all. Who'd have imagined such villains? But, d---- me, sir, I can't believe it."
There was a tone of anguish in the old man's voice which made even his grotesque and feeble talk terrible.
"I say there can't be such devils on earth;" and then he broke into an incoherent story of all his trust and love, and all that Jane owed him, and of her nature which was frank and generous, and how she never hid a thought from him--open as heaven, sir. What business was it of his, d---- him! What did he mean by trying to set a man against his wife? No one but a scoundrel ever did it.
"You may submit how you like, sir, to your fate; but you shan't insult me, sir, without answering it. My note left it optional to you to exact my information or to remain in the darkness, which it seems you prefer. If you wish it, I'll make my bow--it's nothing to me, but two can play at that game. I've fought perhaps oftener than you, and you shan't bully _me_."